The Supermodel in The Boys Boarding School
by Its all about Klaroline
Summary: She was once an idol, but she lost it all. At age 19, she has to take a massive leap to save her career - and join a Boy's Boarding School for a month. Sharing a room with the famous actor Klaus and having Tyler find our her secret, might not really help. Luckily, her new best friend Scott could be the one to save her from this mess - but which one will she choose? AU
1. Chapter 1

_(Caroline's POV)_

_I was sitting cross-legged, surveying the LA in its finest glory. Dawn was approaching, and it tinted the sky gorgeous shades of red, orange and yellow, setting fire to the city landscape. Its beauty was undeniable, and -_

My Blackberry's ring tone completely interrupted my mental monologue that will totally win an Oscar one day. I have faith.

"Hello?" I asked, in my best "publicity" voice.

I was on the Y of the Hollywood sign. It was the easiest to climb, and the easiest to wedge yourself in. Well, apart from the three Os, but they're almost too easy.

"Care-Bear! It's me, Jeremy."

"Oh! Hey, Jere. What's up?"

"Darling, I heard about Marcel. Are you going to be okay?" he babbled, worry coloring his tone.

"I'll be fine," I said, smiling a little. Jeremy was my manager. He was totally adorable, and was the absolute best. He was gay, of course. Marcel was the most jealous guy I'd ever known, and I knew he would've flipped out if I didn't get either a gay man or a straight woman. That's right. He was afraid I would've turned gay and left him. I kind of wish I had, now. "He was always an idiot."

"Yeah, he was," Jeremy said, laughing. "But he left you for that slut Jessica. I think that makes him go from idiot to totally brain-dead."

I laughed now, the first time I'd laughed since Marcel had packed up his bags and told me that we were too different and left me to pay for the rent on the new flat we'd just picked out. And I mean JUST picked out. As in, the day before. He was such a jerk. A tear leaked from my eye, and I captured it between my fingers before it could ruin my mascara. I didn't need Marcel to break my heart and ruin my face in the same week.

"Well, this should cheer you up. You got a job."

"Well," I said, sighing, my smile gone. Before, the word job would have made my heart jump. Now, however..."Let me have it. Swimsuit modelling? Lingerie Catalogue? TV ad for a small-time channel in Oklahoma? What?"

"No, darling, this is a big one. A really big one."

Forgetting my heart-brokenness, I sat up.

"What do you mean?" I asked, my voice completely over-the-top excited.

"You have been asked to be the lead in a film."

I almost fell off the Y, and tumbled down the hill.

"What?!" I screamed, jumping off the sign. "A FILM?!"

Was this the big break I needed? After my massive debut film eight years ago, I'd wrecked every single acting job I'd gotten. My first job had been too much pressure for me - I was only eleven at the time, though. I was completely and utterly certain I could beat the problem I had all those years ago.

"There's a catch."

I paused. I knew it was too good to be true. I sat back down onto the sign, in the third "O". I wouldn't be able to climb back up to my favourite letter, the Y, with a phone in my hand. I knew the catch would be something like - it's a geeky science documentary with a hundred words you wouldn't understand, or it's a not really a film but a gay porno, or you'll be the lead in spirit but you'll really only have two lines, etc. I've heard them all.

"You have to play a guy."

I closed my eyes.

"No."

"Look, darling, hear me out. You remember you're massive debut, yes? The film where you played that little boy who taught his step-dad how to love? The one that won you awards including a BAFTA? Well, the director for this film - the one who directed that amazing movie, Oscar-winning movie, The Full Moon - is actually a massive fan of yours. He called me up, and asked for you, and was actually shocked that you were a girl. He asked for me to send a couple of pictures of you the way you are now, and he thinks you'll be perfect."

"No, Jeremy. I can't keep playing boy's parts. That's why I gave up acting all those years ago, and made myself a new stage name. I don't want to be forever remembered as the "cute little boy in How to Make a Family" forever. I need to move on."

"But this would open up a whole world of parts for you. I remember you're old manager telling me about how many offers you got after you played that part - hundreds and hundreds."

"They were all boys parts. There wasn't a single girl character."

Jeremy sighed.

"Well, if you do this, a girl's part will eventually come. Just keep waiting."

I ran my fingers through my hair.

"Jeremy...I -"

"You'll be able to show Marcel."

I was paying attention now.

"Didn't he leave you for that whore Hayley, because you weren't famous enough? Well, if you got a major job and because the idol you once were, you'll be able to show him."

He was right.

"When do I start?"

"Well, darling, it's actually not that simple," he said, relieved that I'd given in. "There's another catch."

I was silent. Another catch?! Was he kidding me?! Like I hadn't sacrificed enough with the whole "boy" thing, and now he was expecting me to compromise even further?

"The director really likes authenticity, okay? He wants everyone roles to be perfect. And you have to play the part of a socially awkward high school guy who takes part in saving the universe from itself. Anyway, he said to me that he doesn't think that you have enough 'practice' so he's paid for a month in LA Performing Arts School." I could practically hear the speech marks around the word practice.

"Plus, think about it, LA Performing Arts School is the best school in the whole of America, so all the hot new celebrities will be there...think about it, Caroline. That means Klaus Smith, Tyler Anderson, Scott Jacobs, and all the rest."

"But LA Performing Arts School is for high school guys only. I'm a girl."

He laughed awkwardly.

"Honey, that's kind of the point."

It took a while for it to click.

"YOU WANT ME TO PRETEND TO BE A GUY IN AN ALL GUY'S BOARDING SCHOOL FOR A MONTH?" I screeched, and several birds flew away from me in alarm.

"Well...yes?"

"No."

"Why not? This is the best opportunity you've had in years."

"I'm not going to cut my hair," I said, finding the worst possible reason, ever. But it's true. I would rather die than cut my lovely long, golden locks. The day Marcel left, I promised myself I will never cut my hair for the rest of my lonely life.

"Get a wig."

"I'm an E cup."

"You're a D cup, darling. Nothing that a really tight bodice won't fix."

"I'll have to grow a beard."

"No, you don't."

"I'll have to share a room with a guy."

"You shared a room with Marcel for three years."

"It's not the same. Marcel knew I was a girl."

"I hope he did, Care-Bear. But this time you'll be in different beds. Though it's not like you and Marcel did anything in that lovely wide bed of yours, darling..."

"What does this have to do with me not putting out?! NO MEANS NO, I'M NOT GOING TO DO IT!"

He was silent for a minute.

"This is the school that rejected Marcel."

So that was how I found myself a week later; with a suitcase, wearing a wig, in a tight cleavage-crushing bodice, surrounded by a thousand boys.

Pure Heaven? I think not.

_Author's Note: This is my first story. Hope you like it :P _

_Reviews Please_


	2. Chapter 2

(Caroline's POV)

A guy pressed up against me, and he smiled apologetically. You know, like it was nothing. IT WAS NOT NOTHING! You can't just grind on someone, and then smile! What if that person was really a girl?! Like me?

Another teenage boy tried to squeeze himself into the same space I was in, and I was caught in the middle of a guy sandwich. They moved me right into a crowd of guys going to other way, and by the time I was safely out, I'd been grinded with at least ten times. That can't be right. Is that what guys do in same-sex boarding schools? Secretly press up against each other?

"Here you go," the bored-looking teacher guy said, as he lead me through some random shiny corridor - I'd lost count of how many left and right turns we'd taken, it was like a bloody maze. Well, apart from that, so far, what I'd seen of the school seemed alright - but it was totally massive. Completely different from my high school - you know, woody and ancient. This school was enormous and hi-tech, all chrome and glass, which was definitely intimidating. When I just There were at least fifteen science labs (for what, though? These kids sing and dance and act all day, when are they going to find time to do experiments?).

I looked out of the window, at the typical LA cloudless blue sky, and I tried to look calm. I mean, what was the point of taking acting if you couldn't even look confident?

"This is your room."

Room 13. Kind of prophetic, don't you think?

"How's my roommate?" I asked, my voice strained. Not because I felt awkward here (of course not, I'm an actor. I exude confidence. Definitely). It was sort of a mix between the fact that my bodice is slowing squeezing me to death, and the fact that my vocal coach had a British accent. Totally not helpful if you don't want to sound British, by the way.

"He drove out his last fifteen roommates, which is why he got to live alone for about two months."

I nodded, the only reaction I had to this information, and swung the door open. Whoa... It was gorgeous! It was an elegant clash of wood and glass - like it was out one of those interior design magazines every gets shoved through their door but can't be bothered to read. There was a massive main room, with two humongous beds and a flat screen TV and a leather sofa. God, it was beautiful

I was totally dismayed when the bored guy followed me. Do adults not know when to leave?

"That is your bathroom," he said, vaguely gesturing at a door. "That one is your bed." He pointed at the bed that wasn't littered with dirty clothes. "And that is your closet."

"Thank you, Mr, er..." I searched his chest for a little name tag, but he didn't have one. "Mister."

"Any time, Connor."

That's right. I chose the name Connor Miller, after my real name Caroline Miller, because I'm imaginative like that. It's the very reason I'm a screenwriter, not an actor (note the sarcasm).

I settled down, dumping down my brown suitcase, the one I'd ditched my pretty pink one for. I lay down on my bed, testing its springiness. It was way too hard - and I was the kind of person who couldn't fall asleep without a really soft bed.

But my roommate's, on the other hand...

I sat on it, and I sunk in about ten inches. I couldn't help but lie down and let my eyes glaze over, even though his ceiling was plastered with a semi-naked Megan Fox poster. It was Memory Foam...now this was pure heaven.

"What the fuck are you doing on my bed?"

I jumped up, scattering dirty (ew) clothes everywhere.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to -" In my spaz attack, I completely forgot to disguise my voice (a mark of a bad actor - you should never come out of character until the director yells "Cut!") and it came out in a blurred girly squeak. Then, as I looked into my roommate's blue eyes, half-covered with his blond fringe, I noticed three things:

1. The guy, my roommate, was Klaus Smith. The hottest young actor in the world right now, and possible ever.

2. He had just come out of the shower, and was completely and utterly naked. And wet.

3. He was looking at me in a way that suggested that we might never get along.

"Get out of my bed. NOW!" he yelled, his face twisted in disgust.

I complied.

Now I was safely out of his bed, he was calming down, but wasn't any less naked. And wet. So I averted my eyes, staring pointedly at Miss Fox, who was pouting slightly. Though I was acting all calm and focused on the outside, the inside was a massive star-crazed blur. OH MY GOD! KLAUS SMITH! KLAUS SMITH! This was the guy who starred in all three of my favorite movies, and could act anything - a totally sweet love-struck guy, to a super action-hero that would have kicked even the Terminator's ass. He was my idol.

I bet I wasn't his right now.

"What were you doing in my bed?" he asked, his voice seething. I opened my mouth, then closed it again. What excuse would be good enough...? "Oh God, you aren't one of those crazy fans, are you?"

"No..." I said. I couldn't even convince my self. Those thousands of dollars I spent of acting classes weren't wasted, then.

"Wait...Are you a girl?"

My mind froze in shock for a moment.

Oh my god, how did he know...? How the hell did he - My heart leapt out of my chest, and I could hear each pound of blood rushing through my veins, and my head spun. What am I going to do? My career was over, I was going to have to go back to my stupid Marcel-less apartment, with no job, and live the rest of my life an old spinster. With no job.

"No!" I said. I sounded sure this time - but only because I was so desperate.

He walked towards me, and I struggled to keep my eyes to his face. In the end, I gave in. Here he was - Klaus Smith, and his eight-pack that was only hinted at in the movie Kiss Paradise, was now in front of me, all six foot of his lovely statuesque tanned body, in only a soft, fluffy white towel.

God, what was happening to me? Just because Marcel left me didn't mean I should throw myself at every guy I meet! What happened to Christianity? What happened to no sex before marriage?

He tilted my head towards his using only the tip of his finger. I could feel my cheeks warming, and I knew I was red right now. I hated it when I blushed because only my cheeks turned red, and it made me look like one of those stupid china dolls.

His gaze was piercing, but completely neutral. I couldn't tell if he was feeling it too - the heat between our too bodies, the tip of his finger that tingled with electricity, the place were we were touching completely setting me on fire, oh my GOD, my heart was pumping double time, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't -

"You look like a girl," he said, indifferently, turning away. My face felt hot.

Damn actors. That was their problem - they were way too good at acting. Never date an actor, my big sister used to say. Kind of hypocritical, since she ended up marrying one. It's still true though, since she divorced his cheating ass a year later, and I got my heart broken by an actor, the one guy I'd ever dated.

"You're face is really feminine."

I blushed even deeper. It might have been an insult, but it felt like a compliment to me.

"Class starts tomorrow," he said, his voice bored. "Your timetable and stuff is on your bed. You can't sit next to me or talk to me or mention to anyone you know me, or I will kick you out of this room."

"You can do that?" I blurted out, my voice strained, and kind of British.

He turned back to look at me, leaning on the bathroom's door. He smirked.

"Of course I can. I'm Klaus Smith."

And he walked into the bathroom and barricaded the door. Cocky bastard.

_Author's Note: Woohoo chapter two! Really glad you guys stuck around for this chapter XxX _

_Reviews Please XXX _


	3. Chapter 3

**_I would like to thank all those people who followed the story and reviewed...It really means allot!_**

**_Disclaimer: I don't own the vampire diaries... if I did Klaroline would be together and Haley would be in a ditch somewhere ..._**

**_So on with the story..._**

* * *

(Caroline's POV)

I picked up my smooshed timetable - wrinkled because I'd sat on it - and left. He was clearly asking me to leave, and I was too scared not to, even if it meant missing the great clothes-changing. I glanced down my timetable as I walked to the cafeteria - the only building I remembered seeing - and my heart stopped. My world was over. I fell to my knees and yelled out loud.

"No!" I screamed, my voice echoing in the courtyard. A couple good-looking boys passing stared at me as if I was a freak, but I didn't care. My world was over. I had to go home. I took out my Blackberry and dialed the number that would save me.

"Jeremy?" I yelled, as soon as he picked up.

"Care, you don't have to -"

"You sick son of a bitch, get me out of here! You never told me!"

"Honey, calm. What's wrong?"

"YOU HAVE TO ACTUALLY LEARN IN THIS SCHOOL!" I screamed, my voice coming out in one long whine. I couldn't help it. I was stressing bad.

"What?"

"DID YOU EVEN LOOK AT MY TIMETABLE?!"

"No...but I thought it would be -"

"It's not just the Performing Arts, and so it suggests in the title! I would be fine with the Arts! BUT I HAVE CALCULUS!"

"Oh...honey, I'm so sorry, I didn't..."

I hung up, and threw my Blackberry away from me. I was fuming. I can't handle school - I dropped out when I was sixteen to pursue my dream. I even divorced my parents. I'm supposed to be independent, and independency does not involve school!

I collapsed on the grass, forgetting about grass stains and bugs and dirt - I was just so damn tired. Why do things like this always happen to me? I tried to calm. I got out my iPod, and untangled the headphones, and shoved them into my ears. When I was like this, music was the only thing that could calm me down. The play-list that was on was one I'd mixed myself - Teen Angst Mix. That's right; I'm an average depressingly bored teenager. This one was the one that had all the depressing love songs.

I pulled up some grass, and shredded it with my fingernails, humming an old song, one of my favorites - Happy Ending by Mika. So what if I couldn't hit the high notes? I was trying to calm myself down. It's what I did whenever I flipped out, which was usually when my parents argued. It was working already, and I could breathe again.

"And I-I-I-I-I-I feel as if I'm wasted. And I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I'm wasting -"

"Bloody hell," I heard someone say. "You're definitely not a singer, then."

I scrambled up quickly.

It was Scott Jacobs. Oh my GOD.

The amazing singer. He wasn't the type who sung popular songs, but more classical. I only knew about him because I did Drama in high school, and it was sort of a rule for Drama kids to take Music, even if, like me, they were completely tone-deaf. My teacher told us about how he was this amazing child prodigy who was on the same par as Beethoven. A total effing genius.

He was cute. Not the total over-the-top-way-too-perfect-no-other-human-can-ma tch-up-to hot Klaus was, but cute in an un-intimidating way. He stood in front of me, his hair casually ruffled – blond with brunette highlights, his lips smirking in an exaggerated wince.

"I think you just ruined Mika for me," he said, grinning so I knew he was kidding. His voice was casual and relaxed, and he exuded confidence, but that wasn't the most surprising thing – Beethoven guy knew Mika?

"Shut up," I said, blushing. I could feel twin spots of heat over my cheekbones. "I'm just not very gifted…in that area."

"Which area are you gifted in, then?"

"Acting," I replied, smiling back at him now. I could feel a friendship forming, which would be nice, since my roommate was a total douche. "I just joined this school's acting section."

"Really?" he was surprised, which was not a good sign. I guess he was right – there weren't many jobs for girly guys out there, after from gay parts. No offence, feminine actors out there. "You look kind of familiar"

I frowned.

"How so?"

He frowned with me too, semi-bemused, semi-confused, his adorable little-boy smile gone.

"You look like that supermodel..."

My blood ran cold. Was I really that bad of an actor that the first two people I meet couldn't believe that I was a boy? But this guy was different from Klaus – the way he said it made it obvious he was certain I was a girl. I opened my mouth, trying to find something to say. But no words came out. _Oh whatever_, I thought. I was so bloody tired. I'd stayed up all night last night trying not to freak out.

"…Caroline Miller.

"She's my sister," I blurted out. I had no idea what crap I was spewing now. "She in Milan right now doing a photo shoot…"

He chuckled, eyes narrowing mischievously.

"Could you get me her number?"

"What?"

"It seems like she has a nice…personality."

I laughed to hide my discomfort.

"You're not her type."

"I could make myself her type. I've had enough practice."

"You mean you're experienced?" I said, laughing in relief. He didn't seem to be threatening. "Is that really something to tell a girl's brother?"

He shrugged, smiling. The look on his face made me laugh some more. Suddenly, Barbie girl by Aqua played, and we both stood there, with _what-the-hell? _on our faces. Then I remembered.

"Oh, that's my ring tone," I said, blushing even more. He stooped down and picked it up for me, and muttered "Definitely gay" as he passed me my Blackberry. The screen read Jeremy, but I just rejected the call and switched my phone off.

"So what's you name?" he asked, sitting down next to me.

"Connor Miller."

He laughed.

"You're parents are really creative with names."

I laughed with him.

"How old is your sister?"

"Nineteen."

"Older woman. Sweet. I have this massive poster of her in my bedroom."

I grimaced inside. I hated it when people recognized me for my modeling – after my failed acting re-debut at the age of eighteen, I'd been forced to do modeling job after modeling job, the venues getting dodgier and shabbier every time, as my work pile got thinner and thinner, and the pictures got sluttier and sluttier – the poster he had was probably the one of me in the leather cop's slutty version of a uniform and hat, holding a whip (do cops even have whips?). That was the one that made me into the semi-decent glamor model I am. But it was also the one that had made me famous as a supermodel, and put me into the proper modeling world – not that it was what I wanted, acting was my passion – but at least it got me out of those dark alley-ways, and into shiny studios. My best job was probably that cover for Vogue.

"She's in this really cute cop outfit, and she's holding this whip…" he said, his eyes glazing over slightly as he reminisced. This was the exact reaction I got from every straight (and even some gay) guy who's seen my poster – another reason Marcel was a possessive maniac. The blush that flooded my cheeks was the second reason Marcel was jealous – apparently I was doing it on purpose to "attract" guys.

I laughed with him about it for a bit longer (what other reaction can you have to some random guy having a half-naked poster of you in his room?), and then asked him to fill me in about the school. He was totally sweet, and helped me loads; he told me about which teachers to suck up to, and which to avoid, he told me who to sit next to at lunch (i.e. him), and he even offered to help me catch up with my school, which was something I totally needed, and it just seemed rude not to give him my number…

"Oh yeah," I said, as he walked me back to my room – it was getting kind of late. "Can you not tell anyone I'm Caroline's brother? I don't want anyone to know we're related." Even though I tried to sound casual, I knew by the gleam in his eye, he saw right through it. This guy wasn't kidding – he knew women seriously well – even if he thought I was a guy.

"Sure," he replied, smiling cockily. "We're friends, right?"

Something in his eyes scared me. What did he mean by…"friends"?

_Author's note: Was planning on waiting, but I love ya all way to much :) Review please 0_0_


	4. Chapter 4

I love all you people who reviewed, I love all the people that Favorited/followed and I love Klaroline!

Disclaimer:I don't Vampire Diaries, if i did Caroline would have left with Klaus for New Orleans... and anyways Enjoy!

* * *

(Caroline's POV)

I stretched and yawned. Ew. Morning breath. Even though it was mine, it was still gross.

I'd fallen asleep pretty late last night, because I was in my "hyper screaming oh-my-god-I'm-in-a-boy's-school-surrounded-with-hu ndreds-of-guys" mood, meant I'd been up texting my friends all night – even though they had absolutely no idea where I was.

I got up, and looked around groggily. For a moment, I had no idea where I was. Then it clicked.

"Shit!" I yelled, finally noticing the time on the clock. 8.39am? How dare that bastard not wake me up? His bed was already empty!

"I hate getting up in the mornings," I moaned to myself, pulling on the uniform I'd gotten ready yesterday and put next to me. It was weird not wearing a skirt to school, but a blazer, tie and jacket. And trousers. I'd forgotten how horrible it was to get up early. Thank God I lived on campus, and not about half-an-hour away by bus like I used, back in my actual high-school days. Still, by the time I was finally ready, I was about ten minutes late for first lesson (I checked my timetable quickly. Gym. GYM?! WHY, GOD, WHY?!). I gave up with the tie that I had no idea how to do up – it was gym, right? We were getting changed anyway.

And so I grabbed my nerdy boy-like school bag and ran out of my room, trying to find the stupid invisible Gym. It took me another ten minutes to find it. The building didn't look so bad, but then – never judge a book by its cover. It was modern and machine-looking, all glass, but at least it wasn't like that old hall we had at my cheap, old high school.

"I'm…sorry…I'm late…" I gasped, bursting into the classroom. When no teacher scorned me, or hit me with a ruler, I looked around, and saw Scott.

"Scott?"

He was on a rowing machine. Sweat dripped off his brow (sexily), his t-shirt really showing off his muscular arms. God, he was awesome. He stopped when I called his name.

"Connor? You turned up!"

"Yeah," I said, raising my eyebrows. "'Course. You have to turn up for class."

He shook his head.

"You don't know? Oh sorry, I never told you. Everyone treats gym like a sort of…free period. You can come if you want to, but you don't really have to. It's for the people who want train their bodies. Teachers don't even turn up for it, mainly."

"Is it the same with Calculus?" I asked, hopeful. He laughed, which I took to be no.

"Nope. Sorry 'bout that."

"Why does a Performing Arts School teach real subjects, anyway?"

"Because it's a proper institution," he answered. "It's not some Artsy school. Even though, it's in the name and everything, it's actually a very prestigious place. You have to work extra hard, as it fits the whole curriculum in with the performing arts stuff as well."

I was planning on forgiving Jeremy, but I hate him so much right now. HOW COULD HE HAVE MISSED THIS FACT?!

"Can you tutor me tomorrow?" I asked, hopefully. "Please?"

"Sure," he said, smiling. "Just get me a date with your sister."

I bit my lip. Was it worth it? Oh, what the hell.

"This Saturday? She's not busy then."

"Give me her number?"

I was about to give it to him, but it would have been the same as the one I'd given him yesterday, saying that it was my number.

"She doesn't really like it when I give out her number. How about you just meet her at twelve, outside the Starbucks in town?"

"Okay," he said, nodding. Whoa. That was…stressful. Was acting really for me?

I lazed around, sitting on a broken treadmill for the rest of the lesson, looking through Scott's Calculus textbook – apparently we both had it next. It seemed pretty…hard. There was a lot of letters. I thought this was Math.

I was running my hand through my wig, fluffing up the hair, when the bell rang. Scott had gone to take a shower, so I was just sitting here, waiting for him. The door opened and a gush of air rushed in, and I turned around, expecting Scott. It was Klaus, probably here for his next lesson.

It took a second for me to remember why I was so pissed.

"You bastard!" I yelled, suddenly angry again. "Why didn't you wake me up?! I could have been late! Thank God I had gym, and it's a free period!"

He came in, ignoring me. I have to say, he looked good in his little vesty thing, and his little shorts. STOP IT, CAROLINE! NO! DON'T YOU DARE SLOBBER!

"Well?" I yelled, more to stop myself form gaping than anything else. I walked up really close to him to make more of a statement.

"I knew you had gym, so I wanted you to get more sleep," he said. I faltered.

"Really?" I said, in a small voice. Maybe I misjudged him. Maybe he was a nice guy.

"No," he said, smirking. "I just couldn't be bothered to wake you up."

Maybe not.

"You son of a _bitch_!" I yelled, and lashed out with my foot. He stopped smiling, and fell over with a little "oof", clutching his shin. I'd kicked hard enough for a nice bruise to form tomorrow.

Scott Jacobs stood at the door, gaping.

"Let's go," I muttered. I just realized what I'd done. Then I ran out, dragging Scott with me.

* * *

I unzipped my pencil case, and got out a biro. I scrawled the date on the top of the page, in shaky writing. I just realized I haven't written anything in a year or two, and my fingers that were totally competent at doing nails, putting on eyeliner, etc, were completely useless at actual writing.

My heart was still thudding from that…thing with Klaus. I was an idiot. Why the hell did I kick him?! I wasn't the type to use violence, mainly because I was so weak (hence my hatred for Gym), but also because I was a fan of the whole "make love not war" thing. I pushed down the feelings of fear and worry about what Klaus would do to me (beat me? Kill me?) , and tried to concentrate on Calculus. Approximately thirty seconds later, I was lost. My notes were mainly doodles of a stick man doing various things to a stick girl – you know, shooting her, kicking her, knifing her and using her own guts to strangle her as she cried (wonder what that's about? Normally I'm not so dark.)

"So if you multiply x with y, then divide by…" I didn't help that the Calculus teacher was talking superfast.

I nodded along, trying to look like I got it. Inside, I was crying. How the hell am I supposed to multiply numbers?! They are numbers, for God's sake! Scott was looking at me worriedly, and I smiled at him reassuringly.

After that captivating Calculus lesson, it was finally break. I was right. I was so going to flunk. Thank god it was only for a month, and I didn't really have to bother with grades.

Scott showed me the music room the music kids hung around in, and I stayed there for a bit, and we messed around in the recording studio (THIS SCHOOL HAS A RECORDING STUDIO! Rich schools are really…rich). He said I have a good range, I just needed to refine the tone a bit more – that's probably the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me about my singing. Ever.

"How do you know Klaus?" he asked me, casually, sliding the switches up and down.

"He's my roommate."

"What?!" he said, shocked. "You know he's driven out his last, like, twenty roommates."

"Yeah," I said, nodding. "But I never found out why."

"He probably scared them. He's that kind of guy. Did he piss you off too or something?"

I laughed, nodding, but suddenly I got this kind of protective feeling of Klaus. I wanted to defend him. I pushed this instinct down, ignoring the feeling. It was guilt.

"Hey, d'you know who's turning up this Wednesday?"

"Who?" Today being Monday, two days later would be Wednesday.

His eyes glinted as he dished out some particularly juicy gossip. He was like the cute little brother I never had. He was so adorable.

"Tyler Anderson."

"No!" I exclaimed. Tyler Anderson was like, the best pop singer in the world. He was amazing. His first single had stayed top of the charts for about a billion weeks, and his album had gone platinum in a couple months. He was AMAZING. "Really?"

"You picked an awesome month to join this school. In about three weeks time we have the Halloween musical, and then it's the blow-out party at the beach. You'll love it; we're inviting all the schools in this area, so some chicks'll be there."

"Great. Chicks." Also, what Halloween musical? I was hideously uninformed. God, Jeremy sucks. I would fire him, but he's the only manager (and guy) I'll ever trust.

Scott quirked up an eyebrow at my non-enthusiasm, and I quickly tried to look enthused. After all, I was supposed to be in character here, and I'm pretty sure my character isn't gay.

"Chicks," I said again, smiling manically, trying to look excited. "Awesome!"

Scott just looked creeped out now, so I toned down the "I-love-girls" thing. The bell broke the awkward silence. (God, I hate school bells – they sound so shrill and annoying. This is why I dropped out, okay?) And we picked up our bags and left the recording studio, making for our next classes – we weren't in the same class third period, so he just showed me where it was, and left for his.

It was dance.

Ugh. Almost as bad as gym. Don't get me wrong – the thirty sweaty, toned guys I did like.

Klaus sitting in the corner, rubbing his shin – the exact place I'd kicked him – was something I didn't like.

"Alright, kids," said the cheery dance teacher, who was bopping to an imaginary rhythm in his own head. "Today is when we pick the parts for the Halloween Musical. It's going to be based on your dancing skills, and every one of you here can act, and singing can always be dubbed. Dance is the only thing the audience can really see, and that is the thing that will matter."

I looked around the class, and no one seemed surprised by this. Wasn't it kind of weird that this whole musical was going to be faked? Well, I kind of get it – after all, most movies were computer-generated nowadays. I heard a rumour that really famous actors just film half there movie, then the rest is computer-generated.

Well, this obviously means I am stuck with a crappy "extra" part. I'm so bad at dancing. It's kind of like singing. I am awful at rhythm.

"So, if everyone else is ready, we can do auditions."

Now?! WHAT THE HELL?! Don't we get time to prepare or anything?

"Sir," Klaus said, lazily raising an arm up. "I can't dance today. I'm injured."

I shrunk into the shadows, praying that he hadn't noticed me. It was obvious he had when he shot me a look. Not exactly glare, but definitely not warm. I was dead.

WHY THE HELL DO I THINK HE LOOKS GOOD IN HIS SKINNY JEANS?!

I looked at the queue of guys that grew smaller and smaller as more people did their auditions. I was so damn nervous. I hated auditions almost as much as I hated dancing – so why the hell was I an actor? I bit my lip. How much was I willing to sacrifice to not have to do this? The nerves were rising again, like they always did before an audition. Maybe I was meant to be a model – that was so much easier, and it came naturally to me. Apparently, my normal posture was perfect, because my centre of gravity was good. Or something.

There was one last guy, who was in the corner next to the instructor. He did a twirly thing, and the judge guy nodded, looking pleased. The last guy auditioning left, and I knew it was my turn.

"Okay, there's only one last person who hasn't done there audition," the dance teacher guy said, looking down a clipboard list. Damn lists. I've always hated them. "And that person is…Connor Miller."

I smiled queasily and walked up to him. Okay. This is it. Pinpoint the exact moment for this, otherwise you're screwed…

And I fell. My eyes were closed, waiting for the impact. (Okay, I knew this was drastic, but what was worse – embarrassing yourself in front of amazing dancers, or just take a day off with a twisted ankle?) But the impact never came. Someone was keeping me up, someone who had wrapped his arms around me protectively to stop me from falling.

Slowly, I opened my eyes. His chest was warm and wide, and I could feel the hard wall of muscles that pressed against my chest, the individually toned abs that was squeezing so hard against my bodice. And I looked up. My heart was beating fast, and I knew my cheeks were tinged red.

Klaus.

He leaned down, smirking, and whispered into my ear.

"Revenge."

It wasn't until I'd straightened up, when I realized what he meant. The dance instructor stood there, waving at me.

"Come here; let's finish your audition quick."

I glared at Klaus. He could tell I hated dancing, and that's why I'd tried to get out of it by self-harming. He stopped me from falling so he would be able to make fun of me. He smirked back at me, and made a gesture that said "Go on. Go and embarrass yourself".

I think he's the hottest guy I've ever hated.

* * *

_Authors note: Yeah boy! Sorry, something my friend made up :S Kind of weird._

_Anyways, yeah. Stuff. How you been doing?_

_And anyways LOL I couldn't be bothered to describe a proper Gym lesson because _

_a) I have never experienced a gym lesson in an all boy's school. _

_b) Mine are so boring they would put you off this book. _

_c) I hate gym._

_Reviews Please 0_0_


	5. Chapter 5

_ HI guys! Thanks for all your amazing reviews! I loved them!:)_

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Vampire diaries :( *sigh*_

* * *

Caroline's P.O.V.

"How was auditions?" Scott asked at Lunch. We were in an adorable little cafe thing that existed just outside the school gates. Because we were seniors, we were allowed out during lunch – something that was totally banned in my old school. Loads of guys came here at lunch, but Scott had bagged us the best table in the corner of the room.

"Oh my God," I said, rolling my eyes. "It was awful. I mean, come on. I can't, like, dance."

Realizing how very gay I sounded, I tried to cover it up.

"You know," I said, in a gruff manly voice. That was still kind of British. "Because I have such big feet." Was that something guys said? It was sure as hell not something girls said.

Scott laughed.

"Er, yeah. I have the same problem."

I blushed. God, I sound stupid.

"You know, they're putting up the results of the auditions tonight, and they're finally telling us what musical we're doing."

"Thank god," I sighed, "I did badly. I would die if I knew I had a major part in the musical. I can't dance. At all. My audition was just me shimmying along to some ballet music."

Finished my egg muffin thing and coffee, and went back to school. Only two more lessons until they set us free! (And find out what crappy, nameless part I got in the audition.)

It was Art and History…Which was okayish. Thank God it didn't involve pirouettes and linear graphs. I was okay at drawing…sort of. And History was fine, apart from they were in the middle of the English history, and I was utterly lost. The only thing I have to say is, homework was OTT. I've forgotten how annoying homework was, and how much I hated it.

On my way back to my room, I walked past a massive crowd of (HOT!) guys, and I stopped. What the hell were they surrounding? I tried to push through the crowd, getting grinded on and squashed as I tried. Finally, I reached the front. It was the results for the auditions.

The first thing I saw was the massive 80-point title.

_ROMEO AND JULIET, THE HALLOWEEN MUSICAL! Adapted and edited by Scott Jacobs._

So Scott did know what the play would be on. Why didn't he tell me? It was kinda obvious it would be him doing the editing since he was a musical genius. Oh God, the all-guy version of Romeo and Juliet (with one girl. Me.). It was going to be EPIC!

Then came the list of the names.

_Montague: Jack Johnson_

_Lady Montague: Anthony Williams_

_Romeo: Klaus Smith _(Why? That bloody bastard didn't even audition!)

_Marcelvolio: …_

I couldn't be bothered to look at the rest. I scanned down the page, being jostled by thirty angry guys, all of them crying about a part they didn't get. The one part I wanted to see was Juliet. What poor, sad bastard is going to have to play alongside Klaus?

My eyes finally fell on the words.

_Lady Capulet: Adam Thomas_

_Paris: Unknown_

And there it was printed, black and white.

_Juliet: Connor Miller_

OH MY EFFING GOD.

I ran back to my room, slamming the door open. Klaus was there (topless!), lounging on the bed, flicking through a US Weekly that had his own face on his front page.

"I'm sorry, Klaus!" I yelled, and tears came to my eyes. "I'm sorry for kicking you, okay? I'm really, really sorry!"

He didn't even look up.

"I forgive you."

I stumbled and fell on his bed, next to him.

"Really…?" I asked, suspicious.

"Sure," he said, flicking to the next page (and I watched as the muscles in his arm moved. God, he was hot). This was weird. It felt way too easy. Isn't he meant to yell and demand I kiss him or something (though that wouldn't really be a punishment then, would it)?

"Really?"

"Yes!"

"Why would you?"

He glared at me.

"You apologized well enough, and you seem sincere. There's no reason for me to still want to hold it against you, right?"

"So you're going to let it go? Just like that?"

He nodded.

Wow. He was actually way more mature than I thought. Maybe that's why I'm not used to that. Marcel was the kind of guy you have to kneel down in front of and beg, before he accepted your apology. Now I think about it, that's not very normal, is it?

"Then can you…tell them that I don't want to be Juliet?"

This got his attention.

"You're Juliet?" he asked, incredulous. Kind of offensive, but I knew where he was coming from. After all, he did see my audition.

"Didn't you know? Wasn't it you who made me Juliet? You know, as revenge?"

"No," he said, shaking his head, annoyed. "I'm Romeo, aren't I?"

I nodded.

He let out a bunch of swear words. Nice.

"Damn it!" he said, leaning back and shoving a pillow over his own head. "Fuck!"

I left him at the suffocating-himself thing, grabbed my PJs and a toothbrush. He was annoyed, which scared me. I guess I would just have to find somewhere else to stay tonight.

Room 11 was empty, so I slid in.

***Next Morning - Day 3***

"But why?"

The dance teacher was busy positioning a guy into a very flexible one-legged position, and didn't answer me until he was done.

"It's you face, mainly," he said, fixing the next guy's position by running a hand under his stomach. "You have the most feminine face in the whole school."

True. This morning, I went into a toilet (forgetting I'm a boy's school. Ew. Urinals) and was shoved out by a dozen screams of, "It's a girl!". Either I'm the world's crappiest actor, or yes, I do have a very feminine face. Being an actor, guess which one I'm leaning towards?

"But I'm an awful dancer! You saw my audition yesterday, I was utterly terrible!"

"Well," he said, moving on again, reaching the next guy. "You can always learn. It'll be pretty easy, just some footwork and a few arms. You can twirl, right?"

"No!"

"Well, someone can teach you, I'm sure," he said, slapping the butt of another guy.

And I left. It was utterly useless talking to him.

I flipped open my phone, dialed Jeremy' number.

"Jeremy?" I hissed, as he picked up immediately. He'd left me a couple missed calls already. "Help me! I have to play Juliet in the school play, and I can't do it –"

"Your school is doing Romeo and Juliet?" he asked, excited suddenly. "The All Boys School?"

"What other school could I be talking about?!" I yelled. Then I lowered my voice, as a group of fit guys passed me (are all the guys here unbelievably cute?!). "Please get me out of here, I have to play Juliet, and Romeo is Klaus Smith, who is like, the biggest Jerk in the world! And he's my roommate! He hates me so bad, I had to sleep somewhere else last night!"

Not technically true, but if it gets me out of here before my acting/dancing/singing skills are mocked any more by Klaus Smith, I'm willing to make any sacrifice. Including committing a sin.

At first I thought it was a bad patch of no-service, when I realized it was in fact Jeremy screaming down the phone.

"OH MY GOD KLAUS SMITH IS YOUR ROOMMATE?!"

I sighed.

"Jeremy, he's not playing for your team."

"How do you know?" he sounded offended.

"Trust me," I said. "I know." Because if he does play for Jeremy' team I will kill myself.

"Oh Care-Bear, did I tell you? You have a job on Saturday!"

I spluttered.

"What?! I'm in a boarding school, how the hell am I meant to do a job?"

"You're allowed out on weekends, right? And just because you're in a Boy's School does not mean you get to relax and do no jobs. As your manager, that would be irresponsible of me."

"And letting a pretty young girl into a horde of horny teenage boys is responsible?" I asked, incredulous.

"Well," he said, faltering. "That's different."

"How?"

"Because you enjoy being in a horde of horny teenage boys."

I couldn't argue with that.

"It's the best way to get over Marcel," he added. Now that, I could argue against.

"Jeremy, any guy who falls for me while I'm pretending to be a boy, if definitely not the guy I'm looking for."

"I wish I were you right now," Jeremy said, sighing wistfully. "Anyway, your job. It's just in LA, and it's a simple modeling job for ELLE. Just some of this season's dresses and you're the centre-spread – you get six whole pages! Oh, and you also get to take home a couple dresses you like."

"Great, Jeremy. I'll be there."

"Awesome!" he said, and not even his gay sense could pick up my well-hidden angst. Maybe I can act. "I'll text you the details later."

I snapped my phone shut. Damn it. Not even Jeremy cared. I'm faced with two choice; play Juliet, or run away.

Guess what I'm doing?

* * *

_Author's Note: I wish I was in a horde of horny teenage boys. LOL, Horn._

_Ok, trying to find good pick of Caroline being Connor, but it's actually pretty hard. I mean, I could just be boring and give you guys a picture of Amanda thingy from she's the man for an idea , or I could be nice and spend hours trying to find a girl-guy pic of Candice . _


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own The vampire diaries, if I did Caroline would be the main character**

* * *

(Caroline's POV)

Nope. There were barbed wire fences. God, was this a school, or a cage?

I wasn't going to school, though – apparently all today's lessons were cancelled so the whole school could go over parts, and have there first run-through. I guess skipping was the best option. I would totally do anything to get out of having to play Juliet, and skipping seemed the easiest way – I mean, you had to take the lead part away from the slacker, right? RIGHT?

I sneaked out in disguise (a really big hat) I did some homework in the library. I liked this. You know, being alone with no one but my thoughts. Well, I would like it more, if my thoughts were more exciting. I ended up actually opening my Calculus book.

Half-an-hour later

Text from Scott:

_Where the hell are you?_

Switched phone off.

Damn it, I'm so bored! Calculus sucks so much. I paid for my billion coffees, and ran back out of the library, earning a death glare from the librarian. Oh SHIT! It's lunch, and everyone's going to be there, and the teachers will yell at me, and they will…

I put on my really big hat, and sneaked back to my dorm. Just outside, my hand wavered at the doorknob. What if Klaus was inside? Would he yell at me? He probably would. I just went into the door next to ours, number 12, the one I was in last night. It was so boringly empty, I kind of felt like a shower.

Stepping into the bathroom, I took of my top and my jeans, and unbuttoned my bodice thing – I COULD FINALLY BREATHE! I switched on the shower, and turned it up to the highest heat. The water beat down on my skin, and it felt so good. The shampoo sucked though – I'd brought some really horrible "boy" shampoo that did nothing for my split ends, and I have no conditioner. How would I look on the shoot this Satur–

Oh crap. I had a "date" with Scott this Saturday! How the hell would I pull this one off? OK, my conclusion is, I go to the shoot, pick up a dress, go to Starbucks, have quick coffee with Scott, get changed and come back to school. That would be okay, right…?

Okay, calm down now. Sing a song to yourself.

"This is the way you left me. I'm not pretending. No hope, no love, no glory. No happy ending…"

A cool gust of air ran over my skin, and I shivered. It was like someone had opened the window, and now the cold outside wind was rushing in. I turned.

And screamed.

There was someone there, at the door, blinking through the mist the hot water shower had created. Oh my GOD, what the hell do I do? Who was the guy?

I didn't think about it, I just grabbed a towel, opening the wide window, and jumped out. FUCK!

I did not think this through.

I was now a soapy, naked girl in the midst of hundreds of boys.

Sure enough, came the shout.

"OH MY GOD, THERE'S A NAKED GIRL!"

What do I do? I run.

Oh my GOD – the crowd of guys following me was getting bigger – my towel slipped for a second, and I quickly tied it back up again. This is so typical! This is why I never wanted to go to this school! I shivered. God, it was cold.

"Stop!" some random guy yelled. Hell no – stop and let myself get mauled by a hundred or so guys? "Hey, naked girl!"

I jumped behind a building, scraping against the stupid bricks, shit – they were right behind me, oh my GOD! I dived behind a door and there was an open window. I jumped in, and hid under the ledge, catching my breath. Then I looked up.

Klaus. Shit. This was our room. Somehow, I'd done a whole circle around the school and come back to _almost_ where I started. I was puffing like hell. God, this was embarrassing – a supermodel is meant to be fit, yes?

"Hey," he said, frowning, puzzled. "Who are you?" He probably saw random girls naked all the time.

I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

There was a noise at his door.

"Klaus! Have you seen a girl run through here?"

Shit. He would definitely rat me out, and I would be mauled by teenage boys! NO KLAUS PLEASE DON'T DO IT!

But to my surprise, he grabbed me arm (the none-scratched one) and shoved me under his bed. Not too gently, really. God. From my very uncomfortable position among his gross dirty clothes and school books, I heard the door swing open.

"What naked girl?" he said, sounding annoyed. "This is a boy's school."

"But we saw this really hot naked girl run through here! Are you sure she isn't in your room?"

"Do you think I'm an idiot?" he yelled. He was an amazing actor. Totally. "If a hot naked girl just walked through here, don't you think I would know?"

The other guy muttered sorry, and the door swung closed again.

"Are you okay?" Klaus asked, kneeling down beside the bed, looking at me. "They're gone now. You can come out."

I nodded, and slid out, gripping the towel around me even harder.

"Why did you help me?" I blurted out. Well, from experience, he wasn't a nice guy. Someone like him wouldn't help anyone for free.

He smirked.

"Kind of hard not to feel flattered when a hot naked girl runs in."

I blushed – damn it! Why did I always act like this around him – a massive, dithering idiot? What did he mean by "hot"?!

"Why are you here?" he asked, tossing me a (clean. Thank god) white t-shirt and some (clean again. I mean dirty – EW!) boxers. "How did you get in?"

"I'm your roommate's twin sister, Caroline Miller." I'd already lied to Scott about it, so why not to Klaus?

He had his head turned around waiting for me to get changed, but I could almost sense his derision.

"Your brother's name is Connor, right?"

I nodded, slipping off the towel, but staring right at his head in case he turned around.

"Connor and Caroline?"

I nodded, again, pulling the plain white t-shirt over my head.

"Wow."

"Yeah." I put on the boxers.

"Anyway, you're his sister? You look a lot like him. He's pretty girly."

"You can turn around now," I said, straightening his t-shirt, and sitting down on my bed. "Yeah, he is kind of girly. Oh yeah, he mentioned you were a total bastard to him. Why?"

His voice was cold when he answered.

"No reason," he muttered, looking back at me. "Just don't like him. Your, um, nipples are sticking out, by the way."

I looked down, and immediately crossed my arms around my chest, flushing. He was right. Damn.

"I'll…" I said, standing up, "go now. I have to go…find Connor."

"Can I have your number?"

My gaze flickered back to his face quickly, and if I'd been eating, I would have choked and died.

"What?!"

"Can't I ask the pretty girl for her number?" I ground my teeth. God, he was different around girls – definitely a player.

"No," I said, grabbing my towel. "I'd rather leave."

And I jumped out of the window.

* * *

Room 12's bathroom window was still open.

I slid through as quietly as I could, crash landing on the cold floor. Shit. So much for the whole "silent" thing.

Thank god the guy seemed to have gone. I picked up the clothes from the floor – they were there, exactly as I'd left them. I pulled off Klaus's T-shirt quickly, but I couldn't help but smell it. It smelt like him.

What the hell was I doing?

I got changed and pulled the wig on, and I was about to leave, but I kind of felt curious – I mean, who was this guy who saw me naked? I tiptoed from the bathroom, into the bedroom. Yep, someone was definitely living here – there were clothes strewn across the floor and bed in the way that decorated every single teenage boy's room. I tried to find a photograph, anything, but there wasn't anything personal there. At all.

"How did you get in my room?"

Shit.

My head snapped up to look at the guy's eyes – the guy who'd seen me naked and could probably expose me…and it was Tyler Anderson. The hottest singer in the world, the most talented, and the most wanted. He was my idol.

But he stood there, glaring at me. Why do my idols all hate me? He looked like he was intruded on, or something. Right. Because him seeing me naked so did not count as intrusion.

"The window," I mumbled, biting my lip.

"Get out," he yelled, opening the door, and pointing me away. Then I got mad. I got really mad.

"Look!" I screamed. "I'm really embarrassed, okay? You just saw me naked in there, and I –"

I stopped, when his face went all weird and shocked.

"That was you in there?" he said, his eyes wide. "You're a girl?" SHIT! He didn't know?!

"No!" I said, quickly, turning red. Damn. "I was kidding! It was a joke! Haha!"

His face was still all pale, and he walked up to me, slamming up against a wall.

"Now that I see you…" he muttered. Bloody hell, was he close. I could see every feature of his face – a face worth millions of dollars. It was perfect. Way too perfect to be fair. "You do have a very feminine face…and your…"

He reached up, and before I could stop him, he pulled off the wig, and my glossy curls fell down, around my head, reaching past my shoulders.

"You really are a girl," he muttered, and I bit my lip, and before I could stop them, tears formed. I was just so bloody tired from everything – keeping up this pretence, tracking my lies, and for what? Some crappy movie?

"Please don't tell anyone!" I yelled, grabbing the front of his shirt, and looking into his grey eyes. He was so tall – 6 foot, at least, I had to crane my neck to look at his pretty face properly. "I'm begging you; I really can't let this go out! If anyone knows, then it's all over, and I'm fired! PLEASE?!"

He looked kind of startled.

"What…? I wasn't really going to tell…I just…was surprised, that's all."

"Oh," I said, letting go of his shirt. "Thank you."

Awkward silence.

"Anyways!" I said, turning away. "I have to go. If you could give me my wig back…"

"Oh, right," he said, handing me back the wig. "Here you go."

I smiled, and shoved it on, tucking my hair back in quickly.

"Okay," I said, opening the door. "Thank you. Goodbye."

"It was nice meeting you."

"Yeah. You too."

I slid in, as quietly as I could. It was getting late, and I didn't want to risk another roommate tirade with the jerk. When I was famous, I was nowhere as conceited as him. He seemed asleep, but I couldn't tell – his head was turned away from me, and I was too scared to check. The bathroom door creaked a little when I opened it, but other than that, I was completely silent. I collapsed onto the tiled floor, completely wiped out. God, acting was tiring. Maybe I wasn't made for it any more. You know – the constant excitement, the pressure. Maybe I should just stick with being a model – modelling was easy, and it was kind of fun. Apparently I was a natural, and I already had a decent portfolio, and I'm pretty well known. Maybe I should just give up acting…

I switched on my Blackberry again, and waited for it to load. I was going to call Jeremy, and just tell him I've given up – Holy Crap! A hundred and seventeen missed calls, and over five hundred texts! I went the call log, and found only ninety calls were from Jeremy, the other thirty…twenty…twelve… (Oh god, I suck at math. This is precisely why I left school) twenty-seven calls were from a blocked number. Who the hell would call me so many times (apart from Jeremy, but he's my manager)?

Suddenly, my phone rang again, and I jumped as the first lines of Barbie Girl played through the speakers. God, I had to change that ring tone. Not only did it not fit with my whole guy character thing, it was a way old song, and no one ever listened to it anymore. I came with the phone and was the auto-ring tone, but I hadn't been bothered to change it. I'm not even sure how to.

It wasn't Jeremy, with the shoot details, like I'd expected. It was the unknown number. My finger hovered over the reject button, but more out of curiosity than anything else, I changed my mind and pressed accept.

"Hello? Who is this?"

There was silence on the other line.

"Who is this?"

"It's me."

I scrambled up, off the floor. Oh, God no. Oh effing hell no. It was…him. The heartbreaker. The guy who'd caused me so much pain.

Marcel.

"Look, Caroline, I just want to talk. Please. I feel really guilty after what happened, and I just want to apolo–"

"No."

And I hung up, without another word. I looked up from the phone, and into the mirror. For a moment, I was shocked. It was a guy with short, spiky hair, staring at me, his eyes firm and resolute, and his lips forming a straight line. The guy part wasn't the bit that had shocked me, it was the expression I had. I looked so different, so mature. So old.

Marcel was the one who made me this. I know why I'm here, now. Revenge. I opened up the back of my phone and took out the SIM card – I could pick up another one in the weekend. Right now, I had work to do. I had to prove myself to the world – and to Marcel, so he knew what massive mistake he made. I was going to play this part as well as I could, for as long as I needed to.

I pulled on an old t-shirt (I didn't have to wear my bodice and night, Thank GOD), and slid back into the bedroom, my back turned to the Jerk's bed, so just in case he as awake and happened to glance in my direction, he wouldn't see my, erm, bosom.

My bed, though hard and stupid, was warm and nice to snuggle in. I closed my eyes, and tried to sleep, ignoring my thoughts.

What the hell had I gotten into?

I woke up at the crack of dawn. It wasn't like I had an alarm or anything – it was a very annoyed, persistent guy who's woken me up. Klaus.

"What?!" I yelled, annoyed, yet still trying to hide my chest at the same time. Not easy to do, really. "Is this something you're trying now? Instead of not waking me up, you wake me up super-early?"

He glared at me, and I tried not to let my face soften when I saw that he had nothing on but a pair of black boxers. God, he was way too perfect to be allowed to exist – every pane of his body, his face was so beautiful, it made me want cry.

"It's seven thirty. This is when most of the rest of the student population wakes up."

"Oh," I said, rubbing my eyes. "This is what seven thirty looks like? I haven't woken up seen the world at seven thirty in years."

"Well, you better get up. Juliet can't run away again today."

"I didn't run away yesterday," I snapped, sitting up. "I was…sick. Very sick."

"So sick you couldn't make it to the audition?" He smirked, pulling on his school shirt and buttoning it up.

"Yes," I said, looking at him straight in the eye. Come on, you didn't learn how to act for nothing.

"Something that made you so sick yesterday, but you're completely cured today…" he said, putting on his trousers. "What incredible illness was that?"

"Um…" I began, faltering. "Infection…?"

"Oh yeah," he said, pulling on his blazer. Why won't he let this go? Does it really matter that much? "What type of infection?"

"Throat infection," I said, trying to be confident in my stupid lie. "It got, er, really bad."

"Sure, sure," he said, nodding condescendingly. "Anyway, you better hurry up. They finally found a Paris for the play. Tyler Anderson."

_What?!_

_Author's Note: Those of you not familiar with the sweet, sweet luuuurve story that is Romeo and Juliet, Paris is the love rival for Romeo. HINT HINT XXX _

_P.S. Someone commented that I should show Caroline Smart like she is on the show and I actually started writing like that but then I just wanted to make it funny and wanted to show that she hated school and all subjects so I portrayed her like that because i in reality think Caroline is really smart and I wonder how her and Elena are going to the same college as Caroline is this overachiever, head-of-every-school-committee and organised all theses events and Elena doesn't even go to school. Is that just me?  
Anyway rant over... hope you enjoyed it  
And Please REVIEW!_


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I dont own TVD... I really wish I did though :(

* * *

(Caroline's POV)

"Now, pirouette, step-ball-change, step-ball-change, leap – no, remember to split your legs more– turn with you partner, then finish."

Thirty guys in leotards and leggings all ended in perfect poses, their legs, head and arms all in exactly the same positions. Apart from one. Well, maybe not since I wasn't really a guy, so maybe I didn't count.

"Excuse me," I said, putting my hand up, like an idiotic middle school kid. "I didn't really get that bit."

"From where did you feel lost?"

From the beginning.

"Oh, just from the spinny bit."

"Pirouette?"

"Yeah. The Pira…pira…egg."

"Pirouette."

"Yes."

"Well, I think everyone else is done with that bit. Maybe you could stay here for several minutes, so I can train you?" NO! Hell NO! I'm not spending a single minute longer in this dance studio, not when I've just spent two periods locked in this room with this stupid hyperly-excited teacher!

A couple guys glared at me (the gay ones. Not that being gay was wrong), and were clearly thinking, "How could Juliet be so crap? I would make a much better Juliet!"

"Don't worry about it, sir." There was a hand on my shoulder, squeezing a bit too hard to be truly comforting. "I'll teach him." I looked up, at Klaus's face. What he being nice to me? I turned away again, to look at the teacher.

"Fine," he said, waving a dismissive arm at me. Of course he did – Klaus was acing Dance class – he looked like some sort of Greek God, with his strong arms, but unfairly graceful movements. I hated that he was so perfect. "You guys can have the dance studio all break."

I looked back at Klaus, kind of shocked he'd done that for me.

"We're going to have so much fun," he whispered, right into my ear. It could have been sexy, but he way he said it raised goosebumps – and not the good kind, either. He was so going to have fun – bullying me. I can't believe I didn't realize that.

I'm such an idiot.

"Alright, raise your leg. Raise. Higher. Higher. Higher!"

"I'm trying!" I yelled, tears forming at my eyes. Bloody hell, this hurt. I'm pretty sure he was doing this just to torture me. Did he really hate me that much? "It's hard!"

He put his hand under my thigh, and lifted my leg up even higher.

"Fuck!" I screamed, falling over. "OW! I pulled something! Ow bloody ow OW! What did you do that for?" I glared at him.

"Sorry, sorry!" he said, biting on his lip while trying not laugh. But he did offer me a hand, which I took. "Can you walk?"

I pulled hard on his hand so I was vertical again, then let go. I put some weight on the bad leg.

"Nope," I said, falling down again, semi-pulling him down too.

"I'll get you to the infirmary," he said, pulling me up, and looping one of my arms around his neck. "Come on, let's go." We made a few staggering steps before I said something utterly stupid.

"Why do you hate me?"

He looked at me. I suddenly remembered – I'd asked him the exact same thing as "Caroline". Would he realize…I prayed that the whole "massive star" thing made him obnoxious and dumb, like most other celebs.

"I don't hate you," he said, looking away again. We were moving really, really, REALLY slowly. "I just… Oh for God's sake."

He put his hand against my back, and suddenly I was airborne. Well, not quite.

"PUT ME DOWN!" I screamed, forgetting the whole "pretending to be a boy thing". I was thrashing wildly, and yelling in a high-pitched girl voice. "PUT ME DOWN RIGHT NOW!"

He ignored me, and walked on, much faster. How can he carry me so easily? I tried to ignore his muscles, but it got harder when he pulled me closer to his chest. Was he doing this on purpose?! I put up a massive fight, but he didn't really seem to be effected, even when I semi-tried to bite him.

"This is so embarrassing," I muttered, trying to hide my face from the guys who were watching our walk to the infirmary (why the hell is it lasting, like, a billion miles? Can't he walk faster?). I wasn't looking at Klaus, to hide my blush.

"Why are you like this?" he said, chuckling. "You're acting like a girl."

My breath caught in my throat for a second, but then I forced out a stupid, gruff guy-ish laugh. That sounded a little like this:

"Ahohohohoho!"

But worse. Like Santa jacked up on steroids.

There was some awkward eye-contact, then we both looked away, semi-smiling.

"Hey, there's going to be a beer party tonight. A friend of mine's just joined this school, and we're having a welcome party thing. You might know him. He just moved in next door…?"

"Tyler?" I asked, blurting his name out.

"Yeah. Anderson."

I bit my lip. Maybe I could find a way out of this…?

"I thought you hated me," I said, trying to hide the hopefulness in my voice. "You were going on about how embarrassing it would be if I talked to you in public."

"That's true," he said, looking at me, as if I were a piece of gum on his brand new suede Manolo Blahnik stiletto heels. Even so, my heart leapt. "You could just tell them that you don't know me." My heart collapsed into a flat, tired lump.

The infirmary nurse wasn't there.

"It's okay," I said, blushing. "I can do it."

"No," Klaus said, peeling the cooling pad sticker thing off. It wasn't stealing, right? Not when we found the cooling pad, just lying around. Well, in the medicine cabinet. Damn, I was still such a good girl. I still got worried about stuff like stealing medical supplies. "I'll do it."

He pulled my leg, and gently stretched it out, propping it up onto a chair.

"Where does it hurt the most?" he asked, staring at me intensely. I pointed at the bottom of my thigh, trying not to go too red at his touch. His fingers, dancing over my skin, found the place, and pressed the pad against my leg.

"Thanks," I said.

Silence.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" I suddenly asked, sick of his stupid evasions. It wasn't like I hadn't noticed (I might not be some Calculus genius, but I wasn't that dumb). Why the hell didn't he just tell me?

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

Okay, if this was a movie or a book, or something, he would have made a heart-felt speech about how he was wrong about me. If this was a movie, he would have smiled beautifully and my heart would have thumped faster. If this was a book, this would be the exact scene where my feelings change, and I fall into the deep abyss of L-O-V-E.

But this is reality.

"I'm trying to hook up with your sister," he smirked, giving me a sleazy grin.

I choked, and semi-drowned in air.

"Sorry, WHAT?!"

"Yeah," he said. "I, er, met her the other day. She's interesting."

I fought back the urge to laugh. Right, me semi-naked (but in a bath towel) was interesting? I guess the NAKED part was the most interesting. Aren't guys all the damn same?

* * *

Period 3.

I was way too late, with the whole pulled muscle thing, but the Nurse wrote me a note explaining my condition (when she finally showed up at the infirmary).

I checked my timetable. Swimming?

_SWIMMING?!_

I opened the back of my phone, shoved my SIM card back in, and pressed the power-on button. Damn, why is this taking so long?!

When the screen had finally loaded, I pressed speed dial.

"Jeremy?!"

"Yes, darling? May I say, you sound especially cheerful toda–"

"I HAVE SWIMMING!"

I hung up, and switched my phone off. He would understand why I was so mad. Let him waste his time leaving me voicemails, all begging for my forgiveness. He deserved it. What kind of lame-ass manager was he? I had my note, so I wouldn't have to swim today, but still. Jeremy sucked.

I jogged to the pool (running in sneakers was so much easier than running in heels), which was actually on my school map – how did I not see it before…? – but thankfully seemed to be an indoor one. It would suck to have to wait in a freezing cold pool, outside.

Thank God there will be plenty of hot, naked guys there to entertain me.

"Who the hell are you?"

I bit my lip, and tried to look tough.

"I'm, er, Connor. I'm new here?"

The scary swimming-teacher turned away, and gestured at the pool.

"Well, get in."

"Actually, I…"

"What?!"

"I pulled a muscle today, so I can't swim. I have a note…"

He glared at me, and I quivered. But then my eyes were drawn to the things behind his head. The thirty or so hot, wet guys contorted in the water, moving rhythmically. I had to close my mouth to stop the drool from coming out.

"I don't care," the coach swimmer guy snarled, bringing my attention back to him. "You get into the water now. Right now."

"But…I can't."

"NOW!" he yelled.

I felt like I was going to cry. I can't…I can't –

"Sir?"

I turned around, and happened to be able to catch sight of Tyler Anderson as he heaved himself out of the pool. Okay, yum. His hair dripped water down his long, lean body. I could appreciate every single toned muscle as he walked towards me. This time, I couldn't stop the drool from coming out of my mouth (okay, figuratively. Realistically, I was probably just looking dazed).

"Connor has asthma. It's been something that's affected him since birth, but he's allergic to the inhalers. If he does anything that triggers his asthma, he'll have to go to the nearest hospital in the next five minutes, or he could die."

The coach guy glared at me, like it was my fault. I tried to look like what Tyler said wasn't a load of crap, by nodding (my years as an actor were definitely not wasted then). He seemed satisfied, and grunted something that sounded like, "fine-kay."

"Thanks," I whispered to Tyler, when the swimming coach guy moved away. "I owe you one."

"S'okay," he said, smiling. I looked down. Somehow, he's gotten my hand, and he was squeezing it. When I looked up again, I was grinning (even though he was kind of dripping water onto me). "So I wanted to ask you…"

"Yes?"

"Why are you here?" he asked, lowering his voice so the nearby splashing guys frolicking in the water wouldn't be able to hear us.

My smile was gone. I had to tell him, right? But then that would ruin the whole movie – I wasn't meant to tell anyone I was the main character until it came out.

But he already knew.

"I'm here because I'm going to act in a movie," I said.

"And this is a ritual you have to go through before every movie…?"

"No…the Director wants authenticity in his movie, and so I have to practice. You know, being a guy."

He raised his eyebrows.

"So he sent you to an all-boys boarding school?"

"Uh huh."

"Is he mental?"

I smiled.

"Probably."

He smiled back. Then I realized exactly what we looked like. Two guys, one in swimming trunks and dripping wet, holding hands and staring into each others eyes while smiling. I pried my fingers from his hand, and tried not to blush.

"How about this," he said. "Why don't I give you guy lessons?"

"What?"

"I'll teach you how to be a guy. How about it?"

I was extremely suspicious. Why was he being so nice?

"What do you want in return?"

He smirked, and melted my heart. Wow.

"Just your time, my lady."

My heart thumped doubly-fast, and I had some trouble breathing properly. What is it about guys – especially hot celebrity guys – that made a girl's pulse race?

I just nodded. I was all tongue-tied.

"Come to my room tonight," he said. "We're having a beer party."

It felt different from the way Klaus had asked me – the way Klaus asked me, made me feel like we were just friends. The way Tyler asked made me feel like it was a date or something. Date? This word made me get all nervous. A date. I haven't been on one of those in a long time. Marcel was always too busy, or too tired, or just not there.

"Sure," I said, smiling. "That sounds nice. But promise you won't tell anyone about me."

He smiled.

"I promise."

Guys don't have any trouble dressing up. And I mean, at all. If this was a normal situation, I would've spent hours doing my makeup, picking out clothes and shoes to match, etc. Guys just throw on a shirt and jeans, and go. Kind of makes me jealous.

So I picked up an old t-shirt that looked kind of unisex, and a pair of Armani jeans I'd bought in case I needed to "socialize" with the guys here. I checked in the mirror. Done.

"Klaus! Are you ready?"

The bathroom door opened, and Klaus, just like the day I met him, came out semi-naked with nothing but a towel on. And just like the day I met him (was it only three days ago?! Wow), made my heart leap and my cheeks turn red. He was even hotter than Tyler, no, he was probably the hottest guy in the world. He was slightly tanned, no gross orange tanned, but bronzed. His hair fell just right over his eyes, his lips were perfectly formed, and his nose strong.

His face was made for the big screen.

Now I could finally see that, I could see that gap between the two of us, and how he was not, and could never be, in my league.

"Just a minute," he said, dropping the towel.

JESUS!

I made a noise that was a semi-scream and a semi-sigh, and I spun away to stare at the wall. How could he just…undress like that? What kind of guy was he?

"Done," he said, and I peeked over my shoulder just to check he wasn't lying or something.

And then I made a proper sigh.

He looked almost as good clothed as he did naked. He chose a pair of jeans that fit so perfectly you could tell he wore them all the time, because they had the "these are my favourite jeans" look. The shirt he had on was a simple white, with just two buttons at the neckline, but it clung to his muscles perfectly. I knew I was staring at his way too long, but I couldn't help it. Damn.

"Shall we go?"

I finally managed to tear my gaze away from him. What the hell was wrong with me these days?! Maybe it was me, or maybe it was Marcel leaving me, or maybe it was just me stuck in a big school full of guys, but it has to stop NOW! It was like I was some kind old lady, completely sex-deprived!

"Fine," I said, making after Klaus.

"Stop," he said, suddenly glaring at me.

"What?"

"Do you honestly think we are going together? I'll go first, then you can come a couple minutes later. God."

"My leg's killing me, thanks for asking," I muttered, as he went around trying to find his keys.

He was a stupid bastard. I will never drool, fantasize, or think about him ever again.

Then he leaned down over to pick up his keys.

Damn.

I did what he said though. He was way powerful, and he could get me expelled or something.

So I waited the five minutes, passing the time by playing throw the ball of paper into the bin. Then I got bored, and started lying down instead. I could hear music thumping though the wall, and shouts of "drink it" echoed through the whole dorm. They were playing Beer Pong. How did the teachers not hear, come, and bust us all?

Finally, the timer thing in my phone rang (yes, I am a very boring person, and I like to organize my life by setting up little alarms. OKAY?! Are you happy now?!), and I got up, and left. The music suddenly got a lot louder, as the door swung open…Tyler.

I would have drooled, but somehow Klaus made Tyler seem way less hotter. Not that he wasn't hot. Because he totally was. Believe me, he was.

"Come in," he said, smiling at me. My heart did a little jerk, but it was nothing compared to what it did when Klaus smiled. Why…? "The party's just getting started."

I never really liked parties before. They involve a lot of bad music, bad beer, and bad joints. I was always the good girl. I probably am, even now. There were about fifteen guys here, all listening to bad music, drinking bad beer, and smoking bad joints. Without realizing that they were being totally cliché "party dudes".

"What d'you like to listen to?" he asked. I tried to ignore the fact that a load of guys were staring at me. Especially Klaus.

"I, um, like rap…?" I said, trying to please the crowd. I mean, they would totally beat me up if I said something that boys classified as "chick music".

"Really?" Tyler said, smirking. "I thought you liked Mika. You know, "Happy Ending".

My cheeks flushed red when I realized how he knew. That day in the shower. Eesh.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "I'm pretty sure I don't."

Scott stood up, with a beer in his hand.

"How did you know that?" Was he talking about the fact that I liked Happy Ending by Mika? Was that really that big of a deal? I tried to interrupt and say that no, I did not like that song, and try and save some face, but I was completely ignored.

Tyler looked at Scott, smirking.

"I'm Connor's friend."

Scott raised an eyebrow.

"That's funny because I'm Connor's friend too. When did you meet him?"

"Yesterday."

"I've known him for longer."

"But I know him better."

"Stop!" I tried to yell. What the hell was this? You could practically cut the testosterone in the air with a knife. What the hell were they doing?

But you know the funny thing is? I didn't even care what they thought. The one I cared about was Klaus, and the empty expression in his eyes.

_Author's Note: I worked really hard to get this done, because I found this MASSIVELY addictive iPhone game called "Infect Them All", and I was playing for three hours straight, trying to get the cute little zombie thing to eat the scary humans that kept beating me up. THE GAME IS SO GOOD! Then I was like, oh crap, I have to update or you guys would mob me :) REVIEW!_


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